


From The Heart

by Duck_Life



Category: Friends (TV)
Genre: Anniversary, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6494041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Rachel and Phoebe's anniversary and neither knows what to get the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From The Heart

It’s supposed to be sweet.

Phoebe’s taking a break for a second in between playing guitar, her back facing the front of the coffeehouse. Rachel’s as stealthy as she can be, sneaking in and ducking behind her wife. Inwardly, she counts to three, and then she pounces, wrapping her arms around Phoebe from behind and kissing her on the cheek. “Happy Anniversary!”

Phoebe jerks, jabbing both elbows back and shrieking. “ _Who’s that what’s going on what the hell are you doing_?!”

“I’m sorry!” Rachel says, putting her hands up and jumping back. “Sorry, sorry, I was just… I was… happy anniversary.”

“ _Never_ do that again.”

“Okay,” she says, fidgeting anxiously. “I’m so sorry, Pheebs.”

“It’s… I’m calm, I’m okay,” Phoebe says, winding down. “Happy anniversary. What are you doing here?”

“Took a long lunch,” she replies. “I wanted to surprise you! Which… you know, probably not the best idea.”

“Just… next time surprise me from the front.”

“Got it.”

“I, um, I wrote you a song!” Phoebe tells her, sounding a little nervous. “You wanna hear it?”

“Sure!”

“Yay,” Phoebe says, but she doesn’t sound excited. Grabbing her guitar, she heads for the microphone. Rachel leans against the back of the couch and watches as Phoebe starts to play.

It… sounds exactly like “Smelly Cat.” _Anniversary, anniversary. Ha-ppy anniversary. Anniversary, anniversary. I-it’s today._

Phoebe does another verse, fretting as she fingers the frets. As soon as she’s done, she hops off the stage and tucks her hair behind one ear nervously. “So?”

Rachel blinks. “ _Love_ it,” she says after a pause. “Phoebe, that was so thoughtful. Ooh, and I almost forgot.” From behind her back, she whips out a bouquet. “Happy anniversary.”

“Aww,” Phoebe says, taking the flowers. She sounds more disappointed than awed. “You got me flowers. Beautiful… pretty… dying flowers.”

“Pheebs?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she says, trying to smile. “It’s— oh God, this one’s already starting the wilt. Oh, they probably only have a few days. _Ohh_.”

“Aw, Phoebe, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she says, trying to shrug but looking uncomfortable. “No, it’s just, it’s nice, it’s a bunch of flowers and they’re all going to die but it’s nice, it’s nice, it’s a bouquet of _death_ , it’s nice.”

“Okay,” Rachel says, “okay. I have to go.” She kisses Phoebe lightly, her stomach roiling. “Love you! See you tonight!”

“Love you too,” Phoebe says. As soon as Rachel’s gone, her face falls. The song was a mistake— but she has _no idea_ what else to do.

Ross answers after the second knock. “Hey, what’s going on?” As soon as Ross opens his door, Rachel brushes past him and flops face-down on the couch. “Come in,” Ross mumbles, shutting the door. “Have a seat.”

Rachel groans. “I have _no idea_ what to get Phoebe for our anniversary,” she announces. “I swear, I’ve been to every store in the city. There is _nothing_.”

“Well,” he sighs, sitting down on the arm of the couch, “what about something homemade?”

She cranes her neck around to glare at him. “Please don’t say crotch-less panties.”

“Um, _no_ ,” he says. “Just… I don’t know, something artsy. It’s Phoebe, you know?”

“I _don’t_ know,” she sighs. “I already screwed up twice today. I scared the hell out of her and then I gave her a bouquet of death.”

“You got her flowers?” Ross says. “Even _I_ know you don’t get her flowers.”

“Wha— she loves flowers!” Rachel says, throwing her hands up. “She’s got flowers on everything! Flower pins, flower earrings, flower dresses.”

“Fake flowers, pictures of flowers,” he points out. “Yeah, those don’t die.”

“Damn it,” she says. “I just— it’s like I don’t know my own wife. At all.”

Ross tries to pat her on the foot comfortably— it’s all he can reach. “You know her,” he assures Rachel. “You know the important stuff.”

“Like?”

“Well,” he says, thinking. “You know that she’s a vegetarian. And you know that she plays guitar and gives massages and has a temper. And you know that she loves you.”

Rachel rolls over to look at him. “I think you just gave me an idea.”

“I did? I did.”

“Yeah,” she says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Ross.”

“Hey, any time,” he says, and he follows her to the door. When Rachel gets an idea, she’s not going to stop until she gets it done. Ross lets her out and comes face to face with— Phoebe.

“Oh, hey,” she says to Rachel, looking guilty. “I was just stopping by because… Ross owes me twenty dollars.”

“Oh!” Rachel says. “I was just picking up Emma for the afternoon.” Phoebe looks down at her empty arms. “Oh, good God! I forgot her!”

As Rachel disappears into Ross’ bedroom, Phoebe pulls Ross aside. “So,” she says. “I have no idea what to get Rachel for our anniversary.”

“Can’t help you there,” he says, frowning. “It’s Rachel. She returns everything.”

“I _know_ ,” she says. “But I was determined to get her something she really liked.”

“And?”

“And it’s _impossible_ she’s like a _monster_. A beautiful, sexy, kind monster with the softest hands in the world, but a _monster_ nonetheless.”

“Good luck,” Ross says.

“Mmhmm, thanks for nothing,” Phoebe says. “So about that twenty dollars…”

“ _Phoebe_.”

That night, “Rachel” cooks for Phoebe (Monica makes the meal) and they spend a wonderful evening at home. Chatting on the couch, drinking wine, long lingering kisses that bleed into each other. And then, because they can’t avoid it, at one point Rachel’s toying with Phoebe’s hair and she lets out a sigh and she suggests that they open presents.

Phoebe gives Rachel a messily wrapped gift that she immediately tears into, revealing the most hideous skirt she’s ever seen. “Oh…” she says, putting on her game face. “Oh, Phoebe, I _love_ it.”

“Cut the crap,” Phoebe grins. “I specifically got you something you’d hate so you can go exchange it.”

“Oh, Phoebe, I love _you_ ,” she amends, kissing her. “Okay, okay, now open my present.” She hands Phoebe a large rectangle wrapped in tissue paper.

Phoebe is excruciating when she opens gifts, deftly finding the tape and peeling it off, unfolding the paper carefully so as not to rip anything. Finally, she reveals Rachel’s gift to her— a collage made of everything Rachel had in her Phoebe Box, including cocktail napkins from their first date, earrings that lost their partners long ago, doodles that had been left around their apartment, movie tickets, guitar strings, a brochure from Phoebe’s workplace, hair ties, love notes, buttons, and one solitary smiling sock bunny.

“Oh,” Phoebe breathes, holding the collage just as carefully as she unwrapped it. “This is… _Rachel_ … it’s…” But there are no words. She pulls Rachel toward herself by the wrist and their lips meet as they melt into each other.

The skirt and the collage both end up on the floor in a few minutes, but neither of them really notices.

 


End file.
